Sing Me to Sleep
by kittymonroe
Summary: "Alright, if you don't want to talk, that's fine. But if you decide that you can't stand the silence any longer, my name's Kit Walker and I'd be happy to listen. The rats make shitty company." Rated M for Violence, Sexual Content, Suicidal thoughts, and Language. Not a song fic. KIT/OC


**Hello readers,**

**This is not a song fic. I just found this song fitting. If you don't know the song, I based it off of Eddie Fisher's, "My Favorite Things" **

**Also, leave a review if you enjoy or would like me to continue. If you dislike it, let me know what I can do to improve it. But please leave rude comments to yourself. Thanks.**

**-Kitten**

* * *

The spotlight turned on and it's bright rays shined onto my slender shoulders and the back of my gown. I faced the vivid red curtains, swaying my hips to the jazz music. My heels tapped to the rhythm. My mind raced knowing that all eyes were on me.

As I faced my fellow band members, Johnny winked at me just like he did at the beginning of every gig we played. My heart fluttered, but more so than usual. It must have been the excitement of booking such a large show and sharing this moment with him.

I turned around to face the audience. My long fingers gripped the silver microphone stand. The cold metal felt good on my sweaty palms. I was anxious, but I didn't know why. I had done this a million times, but something felt different. I just couldn't tell what it was, but I made sure to keep my composure. I was a lady of grace and poise after all.

The words effortlessly departed from my ruby lips as I sang into the microphone.

"_Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens,_

_Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens,_

_Brown paper packages tied up with strings_

_These are a few of my favorite things"_

I grabbed the stand and trailed it down the curved stairs with me, the spotlight closely followed my every move. The train of my dress swept over each white step as I made my way to the front stage.

I stopped next to the pianist, he played so eloquently. It was like he was hypnotizing the crowd with each key he played.

"_Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels,_

_Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel and noodles,_

_Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings,_

_These are a few of my favorite things"_

I tapped my crimson heels to the beat and swayed to the jazz. I was impressed with the turn out; the crowd was much larger than I had anticipated.

"_Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes,_

_Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes,_

_Silver white winters that melt into springs,_

_These are a few of my favorite things"_

The tempo in the music changed.

"_When the dog bites,_

_When the bee stings,_

_When I'm feeling sad,_

_I simply remember my favorite things,_

_And then I don't feel so bad"_

I glanced back at Johnny while singing through the chorus and I felt the music running through my veins and my heart beat synced to the melody.

I moved closer to the edge of the stage, closer to the crowd. I wanted to have a strong finish to the song. I wanted them to remember me, to remember this performance.

"_When the dog bites,_

_When the bee stings,_

_When I'm feeling sad"_

I took in a deep breath, ready to giving them a grand finale.

"_I simply remember my favorite things,_

_**And then I don't feel so bad**__"_

I belted out the last line, my hands extending out to the crowd, like it was helping me project my voice louder. I held the last word until the spot light turned off.

I waited for the crowd's applaud. I had expected an encore, but nothing… There was a moment of pure silence.

"Rose…Rose.."

I heard a man faintly calling my name, but he must have been in the very back of the crowd.

"Rose."

The voice progressively got louder and then I felt something whack the back of my head.

"You fucking nut, take your damn meds."

I was instantly snapped back into reality. The walls around me started to slowly cave in and my vision blurred. I felt the impact of his hand against the back of my head for the second time.

"I said take your meds!" he shouted at me.

He shoved the assortment of pills into my mouth and forced me to swallow them all at once. I didn't want another strike to the head so I obliged.

The guard shook his head as he walked away, mumbling under his breath. I couldn't catch much of what he said, but a few words. "Suicidal nigger lover," rang through my ears.

Simultaneously rage and heartbreak consumed me. I wanted to shoot him pointblank in the face, gouge his eyes out, slit his throat; I wanted to murder him and then end my own life.

I struggled trying to break free from my straight jacket. I used all my strength to pull my arms apart, trying to unleash myself, but it was useless. I grew more and more fatigued every time I tried to escape my restraints.

I finally became exhausted and accepted defeat.

Life was cruel and so was God. No matter how many times I'd prayed or pleaded for him to end my life, he never answered my prayers. He'd grown dead to me.

I had attempted suicide so many times that Sister Jude put me in straight jacket and confined me to my cell. I honestly didn't care that I was confined, I just wanted out of the straight jacket so I could end my unpleasant life.

There is no purpose in living. Why suffer anymore? People were cruel, the world was a filthy place and I didn't want to be a part of it any longer. Tears started to form in my eyes. I thought I'd cried until I couldn't any more, but I guess I was wrong.

I was frustrated by the fact that I couldn't even wipe my own tears. I couldn't brush the hair out of my face. I couldn't go to the bathroom without some perverted guard watching me. I made an effort to wipe my tears with the fabric on my shoulder when chills instantly ran down my spine. I looked up abruptly to see a woman in all black staring directly into my soul.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice quivering slightly. I hadn't expected my voice to sound so shaky, but I also couldn't remember the last time I'd spoken to anyone.

"Rose, you know who I am. You called for me." Her voice was tender and reassuring. I felt so at ease in her presence. More tears streamed down my face, she'd come for me. She'd heard me when god hadn't. She was here to take away all the sorrow and the anguish. This was the end.

The black angel walked closer to me and with each step she took, the cold slowly consumed my body. She knelt down beside me, inching closer to my face.

"Are you…"

Before the dark angel could even finish her question, she was interrupted by my adjacent cell mate.

"Who you talking to in there? I've never heard you say a word until today," said the male in the cell next to me.

And just like that, my savior had disappeared. She was gone. My ticket out of this hell hole had vanished. Not even a dark angel could save my tainted soul. Death didn't even want me.

"I know you hear me."

I continued to ignore him.

"Alright, if you don't want to talk, that's fine. But if you decide that you can't stand the silence any longer, my name's Kit Walker and I'd be happy to listen. The rats make shitty company."


End file.
